


I Feel Your Arms Around Me, I Feel

by Jui_Imouto_Chan



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Carl's Dead again but that's only mentioned, Chasing, Confessions, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) is a Dork, Dorks, Dorks in Love, Fluff, M/M, Markus (Detroit: Become Human) is a Dork, Mornings without Breakfast whoohoo, Tickle-Tag, Tickling, human!AU, rk1k week 2019, rk1k week day 5, roommate!AU, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 16:00:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17389403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jui_Imouto_Chan/pseuds/Jui_Imouto_Chan
Summary: Markus has found out that Connor's ticklish, and they have a morning game of tag while also being extra and stupid.For RK1K Week, Day 5, prompts: Roommate!AU, Markus finds out Connor is ticklish, "You make me feel."





	I Feel Your Arms Around Me, I Feel

**Author's Note:**

> Dorks, I swear.

“Get away, you bastard!” Connor shrieks, tossing the paper plate he’d grabbed at Markus, who is undeterred, continuing his pursuit. Connor grabs the rounded corner of the counter to swing into the living room, propelling himself and barely keeping himself from over-shooting, his socks slipping momentarily on the wooden floor. 

Markus vaults over the counter, following him with a smile that sends Connor into red alert, and Connor is quickly leaping over the coffee table and then bouncing off the couch to reach for the railing of the second floor, pulling himself up easily and clamoring over the banister. 

He pauses to stick his tongue out at Markus’ once occupied spot on the first floor, blowing a raspberry, but then backtracks and realizes that Markus isn’t there anymore. 

“Fuck!” he’s shouting, making to dart down the hall to his room, but Markus has already rushed up the stairs and gained on him, and he’s tackled into the carpet before he can reach for his door.

“Gotcha, Connie.”

It’d be futile, anyway, he thinks, Markus would only find another way in, like climbing the gutters and coming in through his window, which has had a busted lock since before they’d moved here.

Connor struggles, regardless, panting breathlessly in Markus’ face from the bit of exertion that was far too sudden and far too unwarranted at such an early hour. Markus is lucky he brushes his teeth first thing after waking up, else he’d be wrinkling his nose and scrunching his freckles up in disgust. Then again, Connor isn’t really getting the best end of this situation. 

Markus’ hands rest beside Connor’s ears, just shy of his curls, which splay onto the floor as best they can with their length and elasticity. Markus’ shins rest over Connor’s thighs, squishing them to the floor and preventing too much movement on the brunet’s part. While Connor could shove Markus off, he’s yet to have his fill of food and coffee, so he’s not up for holing up in his room, barricading all of the entrances and possible ports of entry until barely even any oxygen comes in.

“Lemme go!” Connor grouses, “I still need to eat, Markus. It’s too early for your shit.”

Markus scoffs, bringing a hand down to flick his nose in scolding. “It’s never too early for anything to do with me. C'mon, you love me even before you get your caffeine on.”

“Lies,” Connor goes to shove at Markus’ chest, but his large hand sweeps Connor’s wrists into his grip and then presses them into the carpet above Connor’s head, leaving him at Markus’ mercy. “Kinky. But the carpet leaves marks on skin after prolonged pressure, and I’d rather not have my ass look like inwardly directed ceiling popcorn.”

Markus fakes a disappointed sigh, resting his forehead on Connor’s chest. Connor huffs, making him readjust so that it’s instead his chin digging into his collarbone, blinking at Connor while trying to fight down a grin.

“Hey,” he says, and Connor rolls his eyes.

“Hi, yes, hello, the weather is lovely, isn’t it? _–Get off!_ " 

Markus rises back up, patting Connor’s cheek patronizingly. "It _is_ a nice day. We should go for a picnic or something.”

“I think you’ll have to get the fuck off before that.”

“In what–”

“Off of me!!” Connor wriggles underneath Markus but is suddenly choking on his own spit as Markus jabs his free hand into his side, wiggling his fingers into Connor’s sensitive areas, making Connor buck and jerk and scream beneath him, screeching becoming laughter for a beat and then back into screams, panting harshly when Markus grants him respite.

Markus leans close again, his nose nearly touching Connor’s. The brunet’s thankful that he’s already reddened (not grateful for the means by which he’s gotten to this state, but), since Markus’ proximity always makes his insides squirm and bubble.  Within his abdomen is the ticklish sensation that Markus has decided to bestow upon him, now bringing it to his exterior and making Connor want to strangle him. With his mouth and tongue. Passionately.

Yes, Connor wants to murder Markus passionately.

“Chloe told me something quite, ah, interesting yesterday. About someone being so ticklish that even just,” Markus makes his words escape in a cool exhale across the side of Connor’s neck, earning a yelp and jolt before Connor giggles hysterically, “breathing on his skin makes him laugh like a maniac.”

Connor struggles to get his voice out as Markus’ fingers loom near his side nearly threateningly, “Ch-Chloe can go suck a dick.”

“She was hoping for you to do that last weekend, but no, you’d rather stay home with a succulent than at a club or in bed with a stranger.”

Connor bites back a retort in his effort to keep from crying out as Markus’ digits descend on him again. 

Markus pulls back again. “This is fun,” he says, smiling pleasantly, not entirely able to mask the sadistic glee he gets from torturing his roommate.

“Mayb-eeee for y-you, fucking sadist–” he spits.

“Quiet, now, sub.” Markus rewards his disrespect with another stab, moving more along his ribs, and then, to increase Connor’s suffering, wiggles his socked-toes against Connor’s inner thighs, Connor cackling beneath him music to his ears.

When Markus hears more breathing than laughter, he ceases his ministrations and brushes a bit of hair away from Connor’s eye, smiling asymmetrically as he caresses Connor’s cheek, thumb brushing over freckles and moles dotting Connor’s skin, interrupting nearly perfect creamy skin. 

“Why didn’t we do this, again?” Markus asks, contemplative, releasing Connor’s wrists to lean on his palm, resting his elbow near Connor’s neck to watch him closely.

“It was too soon. Carl had just died, and Sumo had gotten lost, then finals started coming up and we just… never got back to it. There was too much going on, you know?” Connor reasons, his lower lip bouncing as he nibbles it and gives it a small suck, looking somewhere into the ceiling beside Markus’ head, then glancing back into Markus’ eyes, flush having yet to recede.

Markus’ breath catches, his thumb feeling for the heat radiating off of Connor’s pink skin. Creasing his eyebrows, Markus wonders aloud, “What’s stopping us right now?”

Connor pauses, long enough for Markus to momentarily have a panic attack. “…I don’t know,” he concludes, finally.

Markus’ fingers twitch, and he puts them to work, trying uselessly to tame Connor’s curls, wanting to tuck some strands behind his ear, to no avail.

“Do you want to?”

“Yes,” he says, so quickly that it gets Markus’ heart to leap into his throat before thundering back down where it belongs, pounding so hard that it’s like it’s pulsing in his fingertips and his toes. Maybe Connor can feel it. 

Markus trails his digits lower, to Connor’s pulse point, hovering, pleased when Connor’s heartbeat is quick, drumming against his thumb, and then his index and middle and ring and pinky fingers, proving Connor’s truth. 

“You always make me feel amazing. Cared for. Like I’m living. I like that.” Connor tells him, and Markus believes, because Connor does the same for him.

Markus murmurs something, he’s not sure what, too busy taking in Connor for all that he is, laying across the weirdly-colored carpet of their house’s hallway, a partial-smile bringing up the lower parts of his eyes, making them into lovely little crescent moons, with the loveliest chocolate craters shining in their centers, still a little tired, sleepy, but warm, and soft, and so very encompassing that Markus could drown in their depths. 

Markus can feel Connor’s chest rising and falling contentedly, like being with Markus is making the carpet soft enough to sink into, which is a stretch, but Markus’ heart is soaring at the evidence telling him so.

“I love that you can do that,” Connor’s hand moves up to cup Markus’ jaw, thumb brushing over stubble and mindlessly prodding at his lower lip, retreating before Markus can kiss it, as he’d wanted to do, “I love that you make me feel so much, that you make me feel. I’ve never believed in saying ‘I love you’ before I’d met you." 

Markus laughs when Connor scrunches his nose up, reconsidering his wording. 

"No, scratch that. I’d never believed in saying it until after I fell for you.”

“Literally or–”

“Both.”

Grin widening, Markus pinches Connor’s cheek. “Glad to know you fell in love with me on a rooftop and not somewhere normal.”

Connor bats him away with a hiss. 

“I take that back. I never believed in hatred until this moment.”

Markus’ chuckles are only broken when Connor uses his freed hands to thwack him in the sternum, still careful. Markus rolls off him, sprawling across the floor next to him. “You’re cruel,” he whines, then sneakily pokes at Connor’s ribs. 

Connor squeaks, and Markus is scrambling away with a cackle, Connor now the one in pursuit, chasing him until he’s racing out the door. Connor locks it and listens for the telltale sound of a window breaking somewhere upstairs—couldn’t Markus just go for a first-floor window, that show off—as he sets an order at their favorite restaurant to eat brunch at.

By the time Markus is plodding down the steps, they have food being made at the restaurant and Connor’s got Markus’ sandwich ready. He instructs the taller to get to making Connor’s.

Markus drapes himself over Connor’s back, peppering his cheek with a few kisses and then, without removing himself, sets about his work, his body’s warmth seeping into Connor’s back while Connor bathes in it, relaxing into Markus’ near-embrace.

“I feel,” Connor says when Markus is close to finishing, “really warm.”

Markus retreats a little, “Off?”

“No,” he pulls him closer, “No, stay.”

“Okay.” Markus’ heart beats strong against Connor’s back, a tune which has Connor being pulled impossibly farther in love with Markus than he’d been before.

He’d never want to be anywhere else than in Markus’ arms again.

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not have submitted a lot of the prompts that made it into the days. Including "You make me feel," among others. Feel free to guess which ones those are if you feel so inclined.


End file.
